


Ouch!

by Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17037539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley/pseuds/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley
Summary: A tiny scene set in Helms Deep, using P Jackson's events after Aragorn's arrival.





	Ouch!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynndyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/gifts).



> With acknowledgement to JRR Tolkien for the characters and setting and P Jackson for throwing our hero off a cliff.

“You need rest!” Legolas grabbed his friend's arm, releasing it at once when Aragorn hissed in pain. “Sorry. But you at least need to get that injury tended.”

“We have no time.” When Aragorn tried to turn away, however, Legolas grabbed the uninjured arm this time, and held his ground. “Legolas!”

Eowyn watched in fascination. The elf looked to have half the muscle mass of his captive and yet, despite much wriggling and twisting, Aragorn could not loosen his grip. Indeed, by the time he stopped, Aragorn was sweating and Legolas was as unruffled as ever.

“Alright. I will ask someone to dress it.”

Legolas glanced over his friend's injured shoulder and beckoned to Eowyn, who, by this stage, was grateful to do just about anything but herd women and children. “Lady Eowyn, would you show me where I can find medicines and bandages?”

She leaned in to examine the poorly dressed injury and shook her head in dismay. “Follow me.”

Soon they were in a quiet corner of the keep, in a chamber set aside as an infirmary. While Eowyn fetched a basin of water, herbs and bandages, Legolas helped his friend out of jerkin and tattered shirt, then pushed him gently to sit upon the edge of a bed.

As a royal maiden, Eowyn had been sheltered to a degree, but she had done her share of tending wounded warriors. Indeed, she would argue that she had done more than her share, so seeing the Dunadan lord stripped to the waist did not cause her embarrassment She was not prepared for the way it stirred her blood, however. Wielding sword and bow bred muscle in men, but with his lean looks she had not imagined that Aragorn would be so … defined. She blushed when Legolas, apparently tired of waiting, lifted the basin from her hands.

Dipping a soft clean cloth into the warmed water, Legolas began to dab, as gently as he could, at his friend's shoulder. Despite his efforts Aragorn flinched away. “Ouch!” 

Before he could move too far, however, Legolas grabbed his elbow. “Do not be such a baby. You should be thankful that I am not Lord Elrond. He would probably dose you with a sedative and confine you to bed for a week.”

Eowyn watched the interaction with some interest, surprised when the usually dour Dunadan grinned. “I do believe you are enjoying this.”

“I consider it fair recompense for the time you removed that orc arrow from my thigh.” Legolas wiped away the last of the dirt and blood and frowned. “You have made a mess of this. The abraded flesh will take some time to regrow and it may leave a scar.” He began sorting through the various herbs and salves upon a nearby table and Eowyn recovered herself enough to collect dressings and bandages.

“I did not make the mess. The river did.”

“Then try not to leap into the next one.”

Eowyn studied their charge, noting a scattered crop of silver scars from old injuries. Whilst much outdoor living showed in the darkening of face and arms, the flesh of Aragorn's torso was paler. Her people were fair haired for the most part, so the liberal sprinkling of dark hair across his chest intrigued her. She wondered if it would be soft or wiry, but hurriedly blinked her attention away as Legolas spoke again.

“Hmm. Their medicines are primitive but I believe this salve contains honey and calendula.” Aragorn sniffed tentatively when Legolas waved the open pot beneath his nose.

A little peeved to hear the elf's assessment of her people's healing skills, Eowyn scowled as she held out a large, soft dressing. “It does. I prepared it myself.” She took a perverse delight in seeing his eyes widen.

It was Aragorn who spoke, however. “Forgive my friend. He learned manners at his father's knee.” The way he rolled his eyes told Eowyn all she needed to know regarding his opinion of Legolas' father, and the elf's answering silence spoke volumes of its own.

Dipping fingers into the pot, Legolas smeared a goodly amount of the unguent upon Eowyn's proffered dressing before laying it over the injury. Aragorn winced but remained still as Eowyn took it upon herself to set it in place with a neatly wound bandage, discovering as she did so, that the hair was soft.

“I apologise, Lady Eowyn. I did not intend to insult your skill,” Legolas offered as he bent to clean and salve lesser scrapes and cuts on his friend's abused torso. 

He sounded so contrite that Eowyn could do no other than forgive him. “It is nothing. I suppose that your healers have had many thousands more years to perfect their craft.”

“That does not preclude good manners on my part.”

“Oww! Dat huts!” Aragorn flinched away from Legolas' hand, which was now attacking his split lip with another clean cloth. 

Before he could move too far, however, Legolas grabbed his chin in one, long fingered hand. “I am not surprised it hurts. You seem to have half the river bed in this cut. Now sit still. If this is not cleaned properly it will fester and you will get a fat lip.”

It was difficult to know for sure, but Eowyn guessed that, “Kee doi dat an I wo be ony on,” could be translated as, “Keep doing that and I won't be the only one”. She reflected that Legolas did not appear overly concerned about the threat, as witnessed by the fact that he continued to worry at Aragorn's lower lip.

When the Dunadan was finally released he almost exploded off the bed, with a glare to Legolas that would have felled a lesser being. The elf merely grinned and offered the open pot. “You can apply this yourself, now that it is clean.”

Eowyn tried to hold back a smile as Aragorn did as he was told. “I shall see if I can find you a clean shirt, and then perhaps you could sleep for an hour?”

“Thank you, Lady. I shall accept the shirt, but we have no time for sleep.”

Legolas spoke a liquid flow of words that Eowyn assumed was elvish, and Aragorn's eyes narrowed. “You would not dare.”

The elf straightened. “Perhaps not, but I will stand guard at that door if I have to.”

“Ack, do as yer told, laddie. We've a few hours yet, before our guests come knocking.”

Eowyn jumped, for she had not heard the dwarf approach. It seemed that Gimli could be light footed when it suited him.

Aragorn scowled from one face to the other, but Legolas' eyes twinkled as he announced, calmly, “You are outnumbered, my friend.”

Dropping back onto the bed, Aragorn thrust the pot of salve into his friend's hand. “Do you promise to wake me in an hour?”

Legolas touched hand to heart. “We promise to wake you, Aragorn. Now lie down, before you fall down.”

When Aragorn did, indeed, lie back, Eowyn draped a light blanket over him and led elf and dwarf from the chamber. Once beyond the closed door she noted, “You said that we would wake him, but you did not say that we would wake him within the hour.”

Legolas smiled. “I did not, did I? I think we can allow him two.”

“He will be cross, I think.”

“Probably.” It was the first time she had seen Legolas smile openly.

Gimli snorted. “Then you're the one who's going to be doing the waking, Master elf.”


End file.
